


Getting to the Surface Doesn't Really Appeal Anymore

by Kizzy



Series: The Anomaly [2]
Category: Undertale
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Winter fun, blood mention, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5566219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzy/pseuds/Kizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a fiasco at school, Toriel has to take on new responsibilities. Will Sans still be supportive of her decisions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting to the Surface Doesn't Really Appeal Anymore

The children were fidgeting, glancing out of the windows and trying to subtly slip on their gloves beneath their desks. Toriel certainly couldn’t blame them. Just after recess, the first snow of the season had begun to fall, and now, at the end of the day, there was a thick crust of it covering the world just outside the window. To be honest, Toriel had found it difficult to resist staring out the window herself. She could hardly remember when she had last seen a real snowfall. Even Snowdin’s snow mostly filtered down through cracks and crevices in the mountaintop, and, through a curious quirk of the cave structure (and some magical help) stayed frozen year-round. She had almost forgotten how snow could sift down from the clouds, each flake collecting to cover familiar landmarks like frosting on a cake.

But class was still in session, even if the bell was only a few minutes away. She cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at a particularly eager student who was already putting his notebook away.

“Brandon, you can give me the answer to the last question, right?” The boy groaned and re-read the question on the board, his lips moving as his eyes skimmed the words.

“Um…gills?”

“Correct!” Toriel smiled and nodded as she scribbled the answer beneath the question. “Gills allow fish to breathe underwater.” She glanced back at the class, who were now actively packing up their bags. Shaking her head, she chuckled and pointed to the homework written on the board.

“Do not forget, class! Tomorrow you need to turn in your long division worksheets and have finished reading Chapter 3 in _Charlotte’s Web_!” A few students hurriedly jotted down the homework assignments, but most of them were shrugging on their coats and stealing furtive looks at the snow. Toriel motioned toward the door. “Who is the class leader for this week?” A small, mousey monster squeaked and hurried to the door, adjusting her backpack as she stood at attention in front of it. The other students quickly formed a rough line behind her. Many of them were jostling each other and enthusiastically chattering about snowball fights.

“Children, be careful—I need to see a straight, single-file line!” Most of the students quickly heeded her voice, but two girls—a monster and a human—were still shoving each other toward the back of the line.

“C’mon, Lucida! Let me get in front!”

“No, Madelyn! Stop shoving me!”

“Get out of my way!” The human girl gave the skeleton monster a hard shove, sending her tumbling into the children in front of her. Lucida quickly recovered her feet, wheeling around to face the other girl.

“Madelyn! Lucida!” Toriel was just reaching toward the two to pull them apart when a circle of bones began to sprout from the floor around Madelyn’s feet. The long, curved rib bones swirled around her at knee height before crashing together. Madelyn tried to jump out of the way, but was far too slow. She shrieked in pain and leaned against a desk for support. Before Toriel could pull her back, Madelyn lunged forward, raising her notebook high over her head and bringing it down on Lucida’s skull. The skeleton whimpered and collapsed onto the floor.

Toriel gasped and sank to her knees, quickly pouring her healing magic into Lucida’s prone form. The other students were making a complete din around her. She became vaguely aware of another teacher opening the door to check on the class, gasping, and running off again. Once the light had sparked back into Lucida’s eye sockets, she propped her up and murmured to her soothingly.

“Lucida? Lucida, how do you feel?”

“I-I’m okay, Ms. Toriel.” Her eyes darted over Toriel’s shoulder, and she gasped before burying her face into her hands. Toriel turned to see a group of human children crowded around Madelyn as she examined some bloody cuts around her knees.

“Here, Madelyn, let me take care of those.” Toriel began to reach one of her hands out toward Madelyn, but the girl jerked away, a familiar fear etched into her face.

“No! Don’t touch me, monster!” Toriel slowly pulled her hand back. She lowered her gaze to the ground, trying to get her bearings. Madelyn’s socks were spotted with red.

*

Frisk was waiting outside the principal’s office, just like Toriel had said they would be. Sans stayed out of sight for a moment, watching the kid innocently swing their legs over the edge of the seat. Over the last month, the kid had seemed happy enough. When it had started snowing, he had laughed in some genuine relief while handing some customers their hot dogs. Snow meant some free diversion for the kid. They’d have fun making snowmen, and he’d been storing up a few winter-related puns. But it seemed that today had an extra bit of excitement in store for everyone. Sans sighed and jammed his hands into his pockets before strolling around the corner.

“Hey, kiddo. Been waiting long?” Frisk shook their head slowly, frowning. “Ah, cheer up, kid. I’m here to take you home.” Frisk glanced toward the door to the principal’s office and back to Sans.

“What about Mom?” Their voice was just above a whisper, and Sans had to lean in slightly to make sure he heard.

“Ah, well don’t worry about her. She just has a special meeting today.” Frisk tilted their head, sliding their half-lidded eyes sideways to fix him with an oddly shrewd stare. Sans took a half step backwards, then chuckled. “Well, you know your mom. She’ll come out of it fine.” He bent down to pick up the backpack next to Frisk’s chair. “C’mon, pal. Perfect weather for some ice cream, huh?” Frisk slid off the chair, the corner of their mouth twisting up in a somewhat reluctant smile.

“Not ice cream. Hot cocoa!”

“Sounds good to me, kid. I mean, whatever we get, it’ll just go right through me.” He winked to Frisk, who flashed a smile before beginning to stroll down the hallway. Sans followed the kid, still clutching their bag. He realized that the grin stretched across his face was genuine. He actually did like cheering the kid up, and it was always fun to spend time with them. He just…didn’t appreciate the feeling he was being blackmailed.

Frisk burst through the door and rushed into the snow outside, pausing only to turn around and beckon to Sans. As they hopped through the snow on the school’s lawn, listening to it crunch, Sans sighed and reluctantly picked up the pace. Tori had enough to worry about without the kid catching a cold.

“Hey, kid, hold up. I want to show you a trick I picked up in Snowdin.” Frisk stopped and turned, their head tilted slightly in curiosity. By the time they had, however, Sans had disappeared from behind them. They whipped their head around to find Sans standing a few feet in front of them, waving a mittened hand. Frisk laughed and quickly stooped down to scoop up a handful of snow. As they hastily packed it into a ball shape, they looked up again—and Sans had disappeared once more. They turned around slowly on the spot, holding the snowball at eye level. They caught a familiar flash of blue in the copse of birch trees just across the school parking lot. With a triumphant giggle, Frisk darted onto the asphalt, lobbing the snowball forward. A car squealed into the lot. Frisk watched their snowball explode against a tree trunk just as Sans snatched the back of their coat and dragged them backwards. A red sedan peeled across their path, finally screeching to a stop in the fire lane. A woman lurched out of it, expertly and immediately gaining balance on her heels before slamming the door shut.

“Hey lady, where’s the fire?” Sans had thrown an arm tightly around Frisk’s shoulders, pressing them into his plush jacket. The woman spared a single disdainful glance for the two before hastening into the school. Sans sighed and shrugged. “Eh, you know something, Frisk? Some people are just car-less when it comes to their driving.”

Frisk didn’t reply. Sans looked over to see their face frozen, staring at the red car with glazed eyes. “Ah, geez, kid. The joke wasn’t _that_ bad.” Frisk turned their blank stare up to Sans. He shifted his eyes to the right. “You’ve dodged worse, right? Just be glad that I’m still here lookin’ out for you.” He gently pulled Frisk along with him as he began to walk, and the child fell in step beside him. After a few moments, they spoke again, still in a soft whisper.

“I-I thought I’d have to start all over again.” They wiped a hand across their eyes. “F-for such a stupid thing. For a snowball fight.” Sans watched Frisk from the corner of his eye. The kid was shivering, and their face had become red with the effort to hold back their tears. He sighed and drew them closer, into a half-hug.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get some hot cocoa.”

*

Mr. Kreider, the principal, surveyed the people who were crowding his office. Well, mostly, it was crowded by the imposing Ms. Toriel, who was standing politely to the side, her hands clasped in front of her. The other monster in the room, who only went by the name Tahoma, had fixed him with a steady, wide-eyed gaze. It was difficult for him to determine their expression—after all, it wasn’t like they had lips or eyebrows. Or maybe this just wasn’t a very expressive skeleton. On the other hand, he had no trouble reading Bethany Miller’s face as she glared between the monsters and Kreider himself. Behind her, Mr. Mosely was wringing his hands together, eyes trained on the floor. Mosely had, over his years of service as a counselor, been cowed into a wispy-haired nervous wreck. While waiting for his retirement day, he had become far more eager to please parents than serve students. Kreider cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“Okay, so we’ve heard the story from both of the students—it sounds to me like both of them deserve detention.” His eyes cut over to Bethany Miller, who had just opened her mouth to protest. “And they will serve it. Now, that being said…I feel that this situation could have been handled better.” He lifted his gaze to Toriel, whose mouth had become a steely line. He swallowed and adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Mosely says that he found you healing Lucida while Madelyn was bleeding right next to you. Why did you rush to help Lucida, when the other child was bleeding?”

Toriel’s eyes widened with surprise. “B-because…Lucida was in greater danger. Madelyn had hit her with a notebook.”

“A notebook?” Bethany Miller scoffed. “You think a _notebook_ is more deadly than bones sharp enough to pierce my child’s flesh?”

“Yes, Mrs. Miller,” Toriel intoned, her eyes narrowed. She had placed a hand on Tahoma’s shoulder. “Monsters cannot withstand physical attacks well. Especially not monster children. If I had not acted as quickly as I did—” she glanced down to Tahoma, meeting their wide eye sockets— “well, she would have been seriously injured. Madelyn’s wounds, on the other hand, were superficial. I believe the nurse said that she only required band-aids?”

“Well, either way,” Bethany Miller snarled, tapping her crimson fingernails on the principal’s desk, “this is clearly not a safe environment for our children!”

Kreider sighed, holding out a hand in a pleading gesture. “Mrs. Miller, we take every precaution to ensure that our students are safe. But sometimes they get into scrapes. I think we should be thankful that—”

“My Maddie doesn’t just _get into scrapes_ ,” she hissed, glancing behind her to Mr. Mosely. “Clearly she was antagonized.”

“W-well, I…I couldn’t say for myself, Bethany…” Catching the woman’s glare, Mosely flushed and tried to meet Kreider’s eyes. “But…well, I think she has a point about the safety of the students. After all, if the monster students are so weak to physical violence…and, as you said, kids are prone to get into, um, scrapes…Maybe it would be best if they were taught in another environment.”

“I see.” Kreider frowned thoughtfully.

“Mr. Kreider…you know that this is preposterous, do you not?” Toriel had drawn herself to her full, intimidating height. “I am certain that if we simply educate the humans and monsters—as is our job—we will not have any more problems with this.”

Kreider slowly removed his glasses. “I…well, I think that there are some excellent points being made here on both sides.” Toriel’s jaw dropped open, but she quickly snapped it shut. “I think,” he continued, examining his glasses, “that this is not the time to talk about this—but it must be addressed, and soon.” He put his glasses back on carefully, looking between the parents in front of him. “Rest assured that, whatever the school decides, we only want what is best and safest for everyone. We want to prevent any more situations like this. Thank you all for coming to talk with me.”

Tahoma was the first to get to their feet. Their gaze took in the humans in a single, sweeping glance before they spoke in a deep, mellow voice. “I’m glad I came. It’s good to know where we stand at this school.” They slipped out of the room, leaving the door open. Toriel sighed and followed. She caught up with Tahoma just as they were holding open the front door for Lucida. Seeing the boss monster approach, Tahoma paused to level their gaze at her.

“Mrs. Toriel—I never knew you as a queen, but…from what I have heard, you were the brains behind the throne.” They glanced outside to watch Lucida, who was tilting her head up to watch the blue sky emerge from the gray clouds. “The way I see it, we may need that leadership again now. I know I don’t want to be shoved back underground.” Before Toriel could reply, Tahoma strode out, taking their daughter’s hand. Toriel sighed and watched them leave. She closed her eyes and saw Bethany Miller’s impatiently tapping nails. They were the same red as her own child’s soul.

*

“You think it’s missing something?” Sans tilted his head, examining the snowman. He shrugged. “I don’t snow, kid. Looks all white to me!” He glanced over in time to see Frisk try to smother a smile. Their spirits seemed to have warmed considerably with a hot drink and the sights of home. They pointed to the snowman’s face with a somewhat exasperated sigh.

“He needs a nose, Sans!”

“Huh, I guess so. I mean, personally, I think noses are overrated.” He shrugged and grinned over to Frisk, whose face was set into its usual impassive lines. They stepped forward and, reaching out a gloved hand, quickly dug out a vaguely triangle-shaped hole where the nose would be. Then, they used their finger to trace out the shape of teeth for a smile. They stepped back, looking between Sans and the snowman…or snow-skeleton, as it would appear. Sans chuckled.

“Ah, well, I’m flattered kiddo.” Punctuating his statement with a yawn, he nodded toward the house. “Anyway, how about we head back inside?” Frisk glanced up the street, then fumbled in their coat pocket to pull out their phone. They stared at it for a moment before shaking their head.

“Nah, the bus will be here soon. Mom might be on it.”

“Geez, kid, you got the whole bus schedule memorized?” Frisk didn’t answer, instead only looking expectantly toward the bus stop at the end of the block. When, just a minute later, the bus did rumble and screech to a stop, Toriel’s unmistakable figure stepped out of it. Sans’ smile fell a little as he saw how her shoulders sagged and her eyes stayed trained on the ground. Suddenly, he felt Frisk grab his hand and start to drag him forward.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go give Mom a hug.” Sans had to agree. Hearing the quick patter of Frisk’s footsteps (and Sans’ slower shuffle just behind them), Toriel looked up and broke into a bright smile. She stooped down, gladly holding out her arms as Frisk released Sans’ hand and rushed in to hug her. Sans stopped a few steps away, feeling his chest grow oddly warm as he watched Toriel envelop Frisk in a tight hug. Frisk whispered something to her, and Toriel murmured a faint, “Me too.” After a moment, she opened her eyes and smiled to Sans over Frisk’s shoulder.

“Hello, Sans. Thank you so much for taking the time to look after Frisk.”

“Ah, you know it’s no trouble for me, Tori.”

“Still, thank you.” She stood up, taking Frisk by the hand, and planted a kiss on Sans’ forehead. He chuckled, feeling his cheeks grow warm, and took hold of her free hand. He laced his fingers into hers as they walked to the house.

At the door, Frisk paused to stomp snow off of their boots before hopping inside. Toriel gave their hand a brief squeeze before releasing it. “Frisk, go sit at the table and get started on your homework.” Frisk gave her a short sideways glance before hurrying inside. Toriel smiled down to Sans and tugged gently on his hand. “Sans, would you come in? I would love it if you stayed for a cup of tea.” Sans nodded, taking note of the way her eyes were crinkled worriedly at the edges.

She carefully hung up her coat before bustling into the kitchen. Sans climbed into his usual place next to Frisk at the kitchen’s small island, gently pushing aside a flowerpot so he could watch Toriel preparing the tea. Usually, her movements in the kitchen had a medical precision to them, but today she was undeniably clumsy—first, she forgot to start heating the kettle, then she nearly upended the sugar pot. All the same, the kitchen was warm, and the scent of steeping tea wafted calmly through the air. Just as Sans put his chin in his hands and felt his eyes sliding shut, he felt a sharp elbow digging into his ribs. His eyes darted to his right, where Frisk was still scribbling away slowly at their homework. As soon as he had looked over, however, Frisk met his gaze and raised their eyebrows meaningfully. Just as Toriel began turning around with two mugs of tea in hand, however, Frisk’s attention snapped back to their work.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Sans muttered.

“What was that?” Toriel inquired, her eyebrows raised innocently.

“Ah, nothing. Say,” he began, taking a cup from her. “How’d your meeting go, anyway?”

Toriel slopped a little tea onto the countertop. As she spoke, she hurriedly focused on mopping up the mess. “Oh, it was fine! I just had to meet with some parents after an incident at the end of the school day. They were…upset, understandably, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.” She flashed Sans a tight smile. He pulled his mug up to his mouth, refusing to break her gaze.

“Right. That’s why you were in such high spirits when you got home.” He tipped back the tea, still watching her. Her smile drooped, and she cleared her throat. Sans set down his cup and hopped down from his seat. “Here, you’ve had a long day, T. No point in making you cook. I’ll just run and get some takeout. How’s that sound?”

“Oh, Sans, you’ve done so much for us already.” Toriel bit her lower lip, her large hands enveloping her mug.

“It’s no problem, T. I’ve been wanting to get you to try Indian food anyway. I figure it’ll help me _curry_ your favor.” She burst into a fit of giggles, then took a deep breath, her eyes sparkling with a fresh idea.

“Well, I suppose that there is no harm in it. At the very least, getting dinner for us will bring you some good korma.” Sans laughed, his hand thumping onto the seat of the stool beside him.

“That’s a good one! Well, I’m sure I’ll get something you guys like. After all, I’m good at guessing that sort of thing samosa the time.” He winked to Toriel, who laughed and rose to her feet. She followed him to the door, pausing at the entryway to give him a quick kiss. Sans took the opportunity to speak to her in a low voice. “Tori…what really happened at the meeting?” She hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. When she spoke, she matched his soft voice.

“I…I already told you, Sans. It is nothing that I cannot handle.”

“All right, Tori.” Sans sighed, his smile falling. “I mean, I believe you when you say you can handle it. But I know that you’re lying about everything being fine.” He shrugged, still holding her gaze. “I wish you could talk to me about it. But if you don’t want to, I understand.” Toriel clasped her hands in front of her, fixing her gaze on them. Sans turned away and stepped out of the door.

“Sans—” At the sound of her voice, he paused, looking over his shoulder hopefully. She was smiling at him. “Could—well, if you stay after dinner, once I send Frisk to bed…I would be happy to tell you all about my day.” Her shoulders dropped by an almost imperceptible fraction. “I expect that I will be glad to get it off of my chest.” Sans smiled and gave a short nod.

“I’ll be back before too long, but until then I’ll masala you!” With a quick turn on his heel, he was gone.

*

Toriel’s living room was the ideal of comfort. There was a worn old armchair that she had insisted on hauling up from the Ruins, and a plush couch with a crocheted cover. She had acquiesced to more modern technology by picking up a small secondhand television and clearing out a space for it on one of the many bookcases that lined the walls. At the moment, it showed a group of friends arguing over what toppings to get on their pizza. Sans settled back into the couch, lowering the volume until the laughtrack faded to a faint background buzz. His head sagged onto the arm of the couch as he inhaled all the scents that reminded him of Toriel—old book pages, baked goods, and the faint musty smell of her fur. As he began to doze off, Sans’ face settled into a contented smile.

He was woken by a warm weight leaning gently against him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and peered upward. Toriel had wrapped an arm around him and rested her cheek on top of his head. Her eyes were trained on the television, but she didn’t seem to be watching it.

“Hey, Tori,” he yawned, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Ah, you are awake.” Toriel smiled and nuzzled against his skull, some of her warm, comforting magic crackling in the air around them. When she pulled away, her gaze only flickered to meet his for a moment before she stared into her lap. “I…well, I was going to tell you what happened at the meeting, but—I mean, if you’re tired and want to go home—”

Sans leaned up to press his smile against her cheek. His magic trickled through her skin, spreading coolly through her face. “I’m all ears, Tori.” He winked up to her. “Well, actually, I seem to have a deficit of those, but you know what I mean.” Toriel chuckled and relaxed back into the couch.

“Well…two of my students began to fight just before the day ended. A monster and a human.” She sighed, one hand trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt. “They both got hurt…the monster was in bad shape. I was able to heal her, but—well, the human child is scared. Her mother was not happy, either. She...and the school’s _counselor_ …are now suggesting that monster children be educated separately.” She snorted, sparks flying from her nose. “For our own safety, they said.”

Sans’ brow raised in surprise. “Safety, huh? So glad they’re looking out for us. I guess they think that we were safe and cozy underground, too.”

Toriel shrugged, her jaw jutting out slightly. “It would seem so. The worst part is that the principal was…considering their proposal.” She swallowed and glanced over to the television. The program had changed to the local news, which was running a story about some holdup in the construction of a magic pipeline from the Core. They were interviewing a human engineer, who was complaining about having to rely on cooperation from the monsters who ran the Core. “I am afraid that they will succeed.” The words slipped from her mouth before she knew that they had. Sans reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently in her lap. She sighed. “So now I have to think of a plan to prevent this.”

“Heh, still can’t leave your queenly duties behind, huh?”

“No, apparently not.” Sans blinked, surprised by the growl of anger in her voice.

“Um…are you okay?” She was silent for a while, her eyes downcast.

“I am not sure, Sans. I am finding that when I came to the surface, I was quite…naïve. They may have first welcomed us with open arms…allowed me to adopt Frisk…hired us and sold us homes…but now, after we have disbanded our monarchy, I believe they are tiring of our presence. So it seems that the monsters need a leader again.”

“Then let Asgore do it.” Sans shrugged. “He’s been doing king stuff for a long time without you.” Toriel pulled her hand away from his, frowning.

“Sans, I cannot abandon my people. Not again.” She rose from the couch and strode over to the television to turn it off. She swiped the dust off of the top of it. “Besides, I do not believe that Asgore would be up to this task. If he managed to get up the courage to do anything, I am afraid he would choose to wage war on them all over again.”

“Ah…you sure you’re not being too hard on him?” He cringed and rubbed his palm against his jawbone. This…was not the right line of conversation to take with her. Not if he wanted to keep dating her, anyway. “I mean—everyone knows he’s a big softie.”

“Exactly. He crumbles under pressure.” She turned to look Sans in the eye, and the way that her red eyes flashed immediately convinced of her queenliness. “He reaches for the easy option. He always has.” Her head tilted, and she frowned. “You are also looking for the easiest option.”

Sans sighed. “Yeah, I guess I always do. I’m just lazy that way.” He shrugged. “I thought you knew that about me already.”

“I suppose that I did.” She swallowed and clasped her hands in front of her. “Well, thank you for listening to me, Sans. It is getting rather late, and I still have much to do before I am able to go to bed.”

Sans felt like his soul had slithered away beneath the couch. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He slid off the couch, jamming his hands into his pockets. He took a step toward the door, then stopped.

“Tori, I’m sorry.” He looked up to Toriel, his usual smile absent. “I might do whatever’s easiest, but—” He held out his hand toward her. “This can’t be half-assed.” Toriel’s face softened. “Besides, you’re right. A lot of monsters still look up to you, even if they’ve never met you. I guess they just like your bossiness.” He tried a grin. She sighed, her mouth twitching into a half-smile. “So, you know, I’ll support whatever you wanna do. If you wanna go crusading across the continent, then I’ll be right beside you. And if you just want to…I dunno, pass out flyers or something? Then I’ll be there for that, too.” Toriel broke into a full smile and took his hand.

“What about if I want to cuddle up with you on the couch?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m up for that, too.” In a swift movement, Toriel bent down and plucked him up from the ground. As she held him close against her chest, he wrapped his arms around her neck and sighed happily. At least he could keep being lazy for one more night.

 


End file.
